


Levi: The Professional

by shittyfoureyes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Assassins & Hitmen, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Léon: The Professional - Freeform, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, canon age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittyfoureyes/pseuds/shittyfoureyes
Summary: Levi is a cleaner, and he always works alone.Until now.





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
"Why'd you hide the cigarette?"

He'd noticed the green-eyed boy hanging around the streets of Shiganshina ever since he moved there from Mitras. Well, not Mitras exactly. He was from the slums _underneath_ Mitras. The nobles lived on the surface, and he was nothing more than a rat in the city below, their sewer. No one knows that, though. No one knows why he left. No one knows him, even his neighbors. He keeps to himself, and he likes it that way.

He'd never interacted with any of his neighbors until today. Not a word. So why now? He could have easily ignored the kid perched on the fence, who was taking a long drag from a cigarette while swinging his legs. But instead of minding his own business like he knew he should, he'd turned back around and asked him about the cigarette.

"This neighborhood is full of rats. I don't want my mom to find out," replies the boy who'd hidden the lit cigarette beside him when he saw the man from next door approach carrying a large trunk. "I've got enough problems."

There. He has his answer. A stupid question, should have guessed that would be the reason. He's about to walk away when something catches his eye. He leans in to take a closer look.

The young man immediately breaks eye contact, startled when he realizes the stranger can now fully observe his face. He's aware of his mistake, but staring straight ahead at nothing doesn't do anything to hide his obvious distress. It's too late. The man already noticed his black eye.

This discovery alarms him. Straightening his posture, he asks another question that he knows he shouldn't ask, one that he probably already knows the answer to, but he does it anyway.

"What happened?"

"I fell," lies the boy, flatly.

The man pauses, debating whether or not he should say anything about it. This is none of his business. He decides not to pursue the issue and walks away without saying anything. He can't get involved. He never should've stopped in the first place.

The kid with the black eye retrieves his cigarette and watches him leave.

"Hey," the boy calls out after him, and he turns back around. "Don't tell my mom about the cigarette, okay?"

The man with the suitcase only considers him for a moment, noticing that the miserable expression seems to have gone from his face, and something about that puts him on edge. His only response is silence. He turns his back and leaves the boy sitting there, and he doesn't realize the boy is still staring at him until he disappears into the house next door.

\---

"I can't believe you got into another fight with them! And I told you to stop smoking!"

The green-eyed boy glares at the girl standing in front of him, fuming. He'd gotten his ass kicked again, which happens more than he's willing to admit, and only when she's not there to scare off the bullies that he constantly antagonizes. It's not the beating that hurt him; what's really been wounded is his pride. Doesn't mean he's going to give up, no matter what she says. He ignores her and turns instead to lash out at the blond boy beside him, whose round face and large blue eyes belie his actual age.

"At least I try to do something about it! Not like this wimp," he shouts, not actually addressing the other boy. "I'm not just gonna sit here and take it like him!" Angry tears well up in the corners of his eyes. The blond boy gasps, shocked.

There's an uncomfortable silence. No one moves. The girl with the long, black hair glares at him.

And then a fist collides with his face. It knocks him on his ass, and when he touches his face, his fingers smear through something warm that's leaking from his nose.

"How many times have I told you to stop fighting?!" a woman yells from the kitchen. No one says anything. They stare each other down until the green-eyed boy can't take it any longer.

His pride can't take another blow. He gets up, wipes the tears from his eyes with his fist, and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

\---

He hasn't seen the boy again since that day. He's been thinking about him, though. He replays their interaction over and over in his head, but he still can't find an explanation for it. Of course, he had the human decency to care about a kid with a black eye, who wouldn't? But he wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't had stopped to ask him about the stupid cigarette. Why the fuck did he do that?

While hasn't seen him since then, he has heard him. He can never make out what's being said, but the shouting coming from the house next door is often loud enough to carry through his window.

\---

The next time he sees him, he's in the same place as before. There's no cigarette this time. This time the boy is sitting on the fence with his head down, holding his fingers under his nose. When he approaches, the boy looks up at him, and it's then that he sees the blood streaming down his face, already half crusted around one nostril. It's not chilly outside. It's the middle of summer, but it almost looks to him like he can see the boy's breath. 

"Fall again?" There's no answer. The boy only stares at him silently, watching him pull the handkerchief out of his jacket. He offers it to him, but for a moment, he hesitates to take it.

"Thanks," he says, holding the folded white cloth to his nose to soak up the blood.

He can't get involved in this, the man thinks. He has a job to do. He walks away but stops when the boy calls out to him.

"I'm going grocery shopping. Need some milk?" the boy inquires, sounding more cheerful than he had a minute ago.

The man halts, turning to look at him, and he assesses the situation for a few seconds before nodding his assent.

The boy seems overjoyed at his response. "One bottle or two? It's two, right?"

The man smiles. The younger smiles back, lingering for a moment, blood still staining his upper lip, and then jumps from the fence and runs off down the street.

He's confused. He walks the rest of the few steps home and locks the door behind him, turning his attention to the houseplant soaking up the sunshine on his windowsill, and he pushes his thoughts aside.

\---

He hears a commotion outside. Cautiously, he peers out from behind his curtains. There's someone in uniform standing guard outside his neighbor's front door. The man breathes deeply and cocks the gun that's in his hand, raising it, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He doesn't know what to do.

Then he hears the gunshots. A lot of them. Now he's worried.

Especially when he sees the green-eyed boy walking up the street carrying an armful of groceries. Shit.

\---

"Where is he?"

"He's not here!" the terrified woman cries.

One of the intruders, heavily muscled and scowling viciously, grabs the small blond boy in a chokehold, pointing a gun to his head. "I said where is he? Where's Grisha?" he shouts.

"He isn't here! Please, let him go! He's not here!" The green-eyed boy's mother pleads, hysterical, tears streaming down her face.

All of a sudden, a young girl wearing a red scarf rushes him from the hallway, a kitchen knife gleaming in her hand. He pumps the forend of his shotgun, lowers the muzzle, and squeezes. The blast is deafening, lead shot scattering and ricocheting off the stone. The girl falls to the floor. The woman screams.

Another shot. Then another, a pistol. And then more, and then... silence.

"Well, that's that. Search the house!"

The silence was short-lived. Chaos erupts as the intruders trash the house, emptying drawers, overturning furniture, searching for something. One of them, a towering man with short-cropped brown hair, steps out into the hall.

"Maria!" he curses. "You killed a kid?! Shit, _two_ kids?! Did you really have to do that?"

One of the other intruders is staring at something on the mantle over the fireplace. She picks up a picture frame.

"There's only two kids here," she says, studying the picture of the family in her hand. "You got the girl, but not the other one." She tosses her head in the direction of the blond boy lying motionless on the floor. "I think we missed one. That's not him."

"Shit. Find him!"

The group splits up. One tears off to search the rest of the rooms. Two of them run out the front door. Only one heads for the cellar door.  
  


\---  


He watches the boy like a hawk. Sees him approach his house. Sees him notice the soldier standing guard outside his front door. The boy seems alarmed and immediately looks down at his feet, not breaking his careful stride, not making eye contact with the guard, only turning his head for a split-second when he passes his front door to discover it open. He notices the boy jolt when he sees what's inside just beyond his doorstep. He pretends not to notice what he just saw and walks past his own home and straight for his neighbor's, shaking.

He knocks.

"Please open the door," he whispers, holding back his tears. "Please. Please." He's trembling like a leaf, trying so hard not to show his fear and draw attention to himself.

The door opens, and the shaken boy rushes inside, striding past without saying a word.

He locks the half-dozen or so locks on his front door, continuing to peer outside from the space between the hinges. He's dead silent, pistol at the ready, and he watches one of the men storm out of the boy's house and march straight towards his front door. He holds his breath. The man is on his doorstep, listening, appearing to be mulling something over before finally shaking his head and going back the other way.

He breathes a sigh of relief, lowering his gun, and only now does he turn his attention to the frightened young man in his kitchen.

"What's your name?" He asks the sniffling boy sitting at his kitchen table.

"Eren."

He isn't sure what to say next or even how to approach him. What are you supposed to say to a kid whose entire family was just murdered? He stalls for time, walking over to a cabinet and retrieving two glasses. He picks up one of the bottles of milk the boy brought for him, pours some for both of them, and sets them down on the table.

"Sorry about your family." He's uncomfortable. He's never been good at this. "Your brother and sister, they..."

"They're not my brother and sister. He's only my friend, and she's adopted. We're not related." The boy sounds strangely apathetic about this, the way he spits out the words so spitefully, it almost seems like he hated them.

"You didn't like them? If you didn't like them, why are you crying?"

"I loved them!" he shouts, stunning the man with his abrupt change of attitude. "They killed my mother and my best friends! What the hell did they ever do? Nothing! They fucking killed them!"

Eren looks up from his milk, pitiful eyes staring with wonder at the man sitting across the table from him.

"What's your name?" asks Eren.

"Levi," the man replies, holding his glass in his hand. Eren won't stop staring at him. He looks down at the glass of milk to avoid having to witness the way his wide eyes are fixed on him with some unfamiliar emotion in them. He takes a generous swig.

"Cute name."

Levi coughs, taken entirely by surprise. He chokes on the mouthful of milk he hadn't yet swallowed, spraying it all over himself. What the fuck? He has no earthly clue how to respond to this, so he changes the subject.

"You have anyone you can go to? Any family, anyplace else?" he asks Eren, who is still staring at him. Eren shakes his head no. Levi is overwhelmed, still having no fucking idea how to handle this situation he didn't want to be in in the first place. Breaking eye contact, he sighs, stressed and confused. He tries to distract himself with his milk again, but the glass is empty. He reaches for the bottle, tipping it over his glass, but it's empty too. He's grateful for this stroke of luck. "I'm going to get some more milk."

Eren watches Levi wander off into the kitchen. While Levi is out of the room, Eren begins to look around. He picks up something shiny from the table and examines it. It's a bullet. He's thoroughly curious now. He makes sure that Levi can't see him and then settles his eyes on the trunk beside him, the one that he saw Levi carrying that day.

He opens it. "Holy shit!"

He's caught red-handed when Levi walks back into the room, not having had enough time to close it back up and pretend like he hadn't noticed the temptation calling to him from beside him on the table. He's still staring at its fascinating contents when Levi sits back down. No use in trying to hide it now. Might as well get a good look.

"Don't touch that, please," Levi says without anger, calmly closing the lid of the trunk. Eren's relieved that Levi doesn't seem angry about him sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. But his curiosity isn't satisfied. If anything, it's even stronger than it was before. He can't resist. He has to know more.

"Levi?" he asks, his eyes locked intensely on the man across from him. "What exactly do you do for a living?"

Levi looks away.

"Cleaner."  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about writing this for a long time. No, it won't be a direct retelling of the story, in case you're wondering. There's a lot in store for our boys! As always, please give me some feedback if you enjoyed this story so far. Comments are my sustenance.


	2. Chapter 2

"I found it!" 

"Good," says the imposing blond, glancing over for a moment before going back to gazing out the window like he couldn't be less interested. He lazily turns to face the taller man when he brings over the package. 

Without so much as a thank you, he snatches it from his hand and examines the box, deaf to the stomping hooves and shouts outside the door.

Satisfied, he turns to the brunet and says, "The Military Police are outside. We better go." As he turns to walk away, the brunet follows, but he stops him with the package in his hand. "You stay here."

The order stuns the quiet brunet. He throws his arms out in confusion, raising them to his shoulders, outstretched as if to say, " _ are you serious?! _ " 

As he watches the others leave, the brunet shouts after them. "What do you want me to tell them?"

The muscular blond stops in his tracks and turns back around before taking several slow, ominous steps toward the other. He stops to threaten him with a glare pointed at him through the broken door. "Tell them we were doing our job."

\---

"Cleaner."

Levi can't face at the boy with the bloody nose. He averts his eyes, uncomfortable with this entire shitty situation he could've avoided altogether if only he hadn't opened his door. But he did open his door, and it saved a young man's life. 

Perhaps Eren misunderstood what he meant by "cleaner," and that's why he isn't afraid or disgusted, but Levi knows it's wishful thinking on his part.

"You mean, you're a hitman?"

"Yeah." Eren's question came quickly. No, the kid hadn't misunderstood. Levi has to look away again, unable to bear his shame, exacerbated by how Eren keeps his gaze fixed on him with awe and interest, but without the slightest hint of fear.

"Cool," replies the green-eyed boy, his eyebrows instantly rising in interest.

The calmness of Eren's response stuns Levi, completely taken aback by how he just told him he's a killer for hire, and the boy hadn't so much as flinched. Quite the opposite; he sounded excited. Perhaps it's a case of hero worship for the man who saved him from being murdered in cold blood alongside his family and friends. 

Nevertheless, Eren's answer caught Levi off guard. He instantly glances up in disbelief, only to find Eren staring right at him with a smile forming on his split lip. It disturbs Levi deeply, yet Eren's lack of fear or disgust or anything a reasonable person should have felt sparks something strange in him. Eren is gazing at him like he's a human being, not a killer.

Levi's struggling to make sense of it all. Eren never stops staring at him during the lull in the conversation, the young man silent but visibly enamored, and the obvious fascination with him does nothing to soothe Levi's inner turmoil and everything to increase it. Levi can't stand it, so he diverts his focus to searching within his glass of milk for answers.

He wonders if Eren's silence results from his own search for answers.

"Do you clean anyone?" Eren communicates his desire for more conversation by pouring himself another glass of milk, only able to look away from Levi long enough to make sure he doesn't miss the cup.

"No women, no kids," Levi answers, but he doesn't look at Eren when he does it. He keeps his attention firmly locked on his milk rather than the living embodiment of confusion who used to live next door, has a black eye, and goes by the name Eren. He's already told Eren what he does for a living, so there's no point in ignoring his questions. "That's the rules."

"How much would it cost to hire someone to get those dirtbags?" 

Eren's unsettling interest in his profession is uncomfortable enough, but that Eren sounds dead serious when asking is something else. Who the fuck is this kid?

"Five grand a head." Levi humors Eren with an honest answer, expecting it to discourage him enough to quash his interest.

"Wow," Eren breathes, knowing it's more than he can afford on his allowance of absolutely nothing, but he's too determined to let something like money deter him.

Eren sounds no less serious, and it may have only been Levi's imagination playing tricks on him, but for a second, it almost sounded like Eren was impressed. But, really, what's the point in Eren asking? He can't possibly have that much money. Dumb brat.

"How about this: I work for you, and in exchange, you teach me how to clean." Eren carries himself like someone far beyond his years. He never breaks eye contact, never backs down, negotiates with him like he's an old mafia boss determined to get what he wants.

Levi's so dumbfounded by Eren's proposition that he actually considers it for a moment. He's the one staring in awe now, but he hasn't yet heard the worst of it.

"What do you think? I'll clean your place. I'll do the shopping. I'll even wash your clothes. Is it a deal?"

Something about Eren's offer, Eren's second plea for help today, Eren's unyielding determination; it does something to him. Makes his cold, lonely heart clench. Why the fuck am I still considering this, Levi thinks, wondering if he's trapped inside some bizarre, surreal dream, because that's the only logical way to explain what is happening at his kitchen table right now. He should send Eren away now, tell him to fuck off and never come back, but… he can't. But he can't agree to this, either. 

How crazy would he have to be to accept this tragic, insane orphan's offer of becoming his own personal maid in exchange for a hired hit? But no, it wasn't simply that. Eren asked him to teach him how to clean. Levi's already crazy enough for considering it instead of shooting it down right then and there like he should have. Like he still can. 

"No," Levi shakes his head solemnly, feeling guilty for dashing Eren's hope of avenging his family, especially when he was so heart-wrenchingly desperate for it. Out of respect for the seriousness of the conversation, he keeps eye contact with Eren, answering him as he would an actual client. "It's not a deal." 

For the first time, Eren's countenance breaks. He looks defeated, despondent, his confidence and hope both shattered. Tears gather in those big, heartbreaking green eyes, and Eren's lip trembles, yet Levi doesn't relent. He won't let Eren get to him. He will not spoil this. Eren's given up, and that's exactly what he wanted. 

But Eren hasn't given up. There are still tears in his eyes, but the determination Levi extinguished from them flickers back to life. He  _ won't _ give up. 

"What do you want me to do? I've got no place to go."

_ Fuck, kid. Don't do this to me. Don't look at me like that. I'm not your hope. I'll drag you down. _

Levi studies at the potted plant on the windowsill, sighing when it offers him no guidance. It just keeps doing what it always does: Soaking up the sun in silence, living, breathing, growing, dreaming of somewhere to finally plant its roots.

_Shit. I can't do this. I _shouldn't_ do this._

"You've had a rough day today. Go to sleep, and we'll see tomorrow, okay?"  _ Why the fuck didn't I just kick his ass out my door? _

Instead of doing what he should have done, Levi offers Eren his bed. He reasons it's only common decency. Eren has nowhere to go besides the house with the broken door and pools of his loved ones' blood on the floor, and Levi doesn't use the bed, anyway. It would be both selfish and cruel to turn Eren away. Only common decency, no more, no less.  _ As if I know anything about decency anymore. _

He turns to go, but stops at the somber murmur of Eren addressing him from under the covers, so close to him but sounding so, so far away.  _ Goddammit, brat, why can't you just let me leave? _

"You've been really great, Levi." 

At least Eren's not looking at me, Levi thinks, anticipating the relief he's supposed to experience right now. But he can see Eren's red, puffy eyes staring at nothing, and that makes it worse. There's no relief in a broken young man thanking him for being a decent human being in a voice devoid of all hope or happiness.

He owes it to Eren to acknowledge his thanks. He shouldn't have. He realized his mistake when Eren reached blindly for his hand and wrapped weak, warm fingers around his.

Eren turns his tearful eyes up to Levi and says,

"Goodnight."

\---

The shock and adrenaline started to wear off once Levi sent him to bed. Everything he experienced today left him exhausted beyond exhaustion, and he's feeling every last bit of the damage now. He wants nothing more than to fall asleep and forget everything. He wants to plunge into a comforting, dreamless oblivion and stay there. 

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but his thoughts won't let him. A storm of dizzying sounds and images flash behind his eyelids, and no matter how tight he squeezes them shut, they won't disappear.

He pictures Mikasa and her red scarf, Armin and all his books. Mikasa arguing with him, but always watching out for him. Armin nagging him about his studies, and Armin glowing with excitement as he tells him all the dreams he has for the future.  _ Had. _

Eren sees his mother smiling at him, and he hears her chastising him. He'd trade anything for her to catch him outside with a cigarette and yell at him for it again.

He hears the commotion, and he sees what he never should have witnessed behind his front door.

Then he sees his father.

He wonders where he is. Is he still alive? Does he know what happened?

Eren always wondered about his father. When he was younger, it was usually just wondering where he was and why he was leaving again. He'd ask him about his job, and every answer his father gave him only led to more questions. 

The questions changed as Eren got older. Sure, he still wondered where his father was going this time, and why he was always leaving him and his mother alone. But then he started wondering what he was doing when he wasn't off in god knows where. Why did he spend so much time in the cellar? Why couldn't he go down there with him? Who were these strange people coming and going at all hours and whispering outside his window?

What did he  _ really _ do for a living?

He wondered why his father gave him a key.

The chaos in Eren's head receded little by little, all the images going blurry, all the sounds becoming muffled until he couldn't make out whose voice was whose.

There's one last thing his mind wants to tell him before he's allowed to sleep.

A final image drifts into focus, vivid and sharp-edged. An implacable-looking man with short, jet-black hair and warm eyes that contradict their icy color. His slight frame and sleek form that deceive you into thinking there's weakness in it, that there's no hard, powerful muscle hidden beneath his white shirt. He sees the sun shining on him when the quiet, mysterious man opens the door and lets him live. He sees a cleaner. An assassin. A savior. Safety.

Eren doesn't want to sleep in his room alone.

\---

Levi can't sleep. 

_ Fuck this. I'm cleaning up this mess. _

His practiced thumb pulls the hammer back, and his shadow falls across Eren's motionless form, the boy who feels safe enough to be sleeping peacefully in his bed, unaware of the muzzle pressed to his head.

He freezes with his finger on the trigger.

_ Do it. Just do it. Fucking do it! _

Levi inhales sharply and abruptly turns away. Shaking his head, he stares down at Eren sound asleep in his bed after losing everything, which would have included his own life if Levi hadn't shown compassion and let him in. 

The pistol falls away.

_ I can't do it.  _

Ragged, unsteady breaths and a foreign tremble in his limbs wrack Levi when he ambles from the darkened room, and Eren wakes up in the morning.

"Sleep well?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A calm little moment before the storm.
> 
> The real plot is about to get underway.


End file.
